Free Falling
by mmolinari
Summary: AU: What if Liz had never joined the FBI and instead had stayed on the path of being a criminal? Nearly all the main characters make an appearance and some of the blacklisters. Eventual Lizzington, multiple chapters.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: I know I should be updating my other story (Safe in Your Arms), but this idea struck me and I had to write about it (sorry). I promise I will get back to Safe in Your Arms soon. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this story. As always, I own nothing and love all reviews.

**CHAPTER 1: The Robbery**

_What they hell were you thinking; robbing a drug lord?_ I grit my teeth, trying to stay calm. I have done this many times before, I can do this now. Just breathe, and think about your next move.

I think over my options- Tom isn't supposed to be here for another half an hour, I am unarmed and outnumbered 10:1. And the only exit I know of is currently blocked by a 200 pound chunk of muscle carrying an AK 47.

I peer cautiously around the corner, and see Mr. Muscles still standing there, his finger on the trigger of the gun. It looks like he'd be more than happy to empty his magazine into me if he got the chance. I duck back behind the corner, my heart race increasing to an alarming rate as I feel reality setting in- I am trapped.

The best option is to find another exit, but that means walking through unknown territory filled with people who shoot first and ask questions late. People like Mr. Muscles out there who are way too trigger happy and probably filled with steroids. Not a very good combination.

Why had I thought this was going to be a good idea? Tom had warned me that Hector Lorca was a heartless bastard and that robbing him would be suicide, but of course I had to be all stubborn and demand to pick him as our next target. I had always had a problem robbing "innocent" people, so I had felt that robbing a drug lord would be easier. Once again, Tom was right.

Oh god, Tom. He doesn't even know I'm in trouble. It was only supposed to be a little surveillance- it had been my (completely stupid) idea to go into the building. I honestly don't know what I had expected- for the warehouse to be empty to give me a perfect opportunity to look around?

I swear under my breath and then work up the courage to start my dreaded search for a way out. The experiments with the lab rats trapped in a maze comes to my mind. At least their mazes aren't filled with death traps.

I stay against the wall as I slowly tiptoe away from Mr. Muscles. Every sound sends a jolt of panic through me. I struggle not to hyperventilate- passing out would definitely not help the situation. I glance around the next corner to find yet another empty room. What is Mr. Muscles even guarding? So far the warehouse has been empty.

When I make my way to the next room and look in, I see a promising site- a window. It is about 6 feet off the ground, and light can barely filter through the layer of grime covering it. The result is a patchy glow that casts weak shadows across the room. I have never been happier to see a window.

I carefully approach it, my senses still on high alert, but my mind slightly less panicked. I am going to make it out of here.

I let out a shaky breath as I stand under the window. I reach up, straining on my tippy toes to reach the small ledge. My fingers slide on the level of dust covering it. I struggle to keep my grip and pull myself up. I almost fall backward (I think my heart skipped a beat when I started sliding), but soon I am propped up on the tall ledge.

The window is old, and the panes creak when I press lightly against them. I might not have had enough common sense to bring a gun with me, but at least I brought a knife. I pull it out of the concealed pocket in my coat, and start working away at the old wood. I am so focused on sawing my way to freedom that I don't hear him approaching until it is too late.

"Freeze." The accent is distinctly Mexican, not surprising considering Lorca is an illegal immigrant from Mexico City and tends to hire within his family, although his gang had long ago spread out of familial bonds. I stop sawing, my heart dropping and my breathing speeding up.

"Turn around, slowly." I turn in the sill to come face to face with Mr. Muscles. The AK 47 is aimed right at my chest, and his finger is stuck on the trigger. His face is all business.

"Drop the knife right below you. Don't make any sudden movements, or I will shoot." I oblige, slowly, and out of my peripheral vision I see two more guards enter the room, as covered in tattoos and beefed up as Mr. Muscles.

Mr. Muscles starts speaking to them in rapid Spanish; he seems to be giving orders. The youngest one, who can't be older than 16, picks up my knife from the floor while keeping a wary gaze on me and recedes back behind Mr. Muscles.

"Drop to the ground, slowly now, and face the wall." As soon as I hit the ground and turn, I feel Mr. Muscles dig the muzzle of his gun into my spine. I press against the wall, doing my best to keep my breath steady. I am not scared; I will not give them the satisfaction of seeing me scared. Just breathe, in and out.

One of the guards pats me down, his hands lingering on my ass. I consider kicking him, but figure that would get me shot. Finally he pulls back and attaches cuffs to my wrists. He pulls tightly. I silently pray that Tom is on his way.

I'm not sure how much time has elapsed, but I'm guessing that it's a lot shorter than a half an hour. I need to stall. As Mr. Muscles pushes me forward I stumble over my own feet, falling forward.

Mr. Muscles has a tight grip on my cuffs, so I don't hit the ground. Instead all of my weight is caught in my wrists and the metal digs into my skin. I let out an involuntary screech, sounding like some kind of deranged animal. I fight the tears building in my eyes. Mr. Muscles pulls me back up with terrifying ease and jams his gun into my spine again.

"No funny business or I'll put a bullet through your heart," he growls into my ear. I believe him. I continue forward, taking care not to trip. We walk through a few more empty rooms, getting deeper inside the warehouse.

We stop in front of a small wooden door, the only feature I had seen so far besides rusty metal and cobwebs. The middle muscle knocks on the door and yells something in Spanish. I can only pick out "Señor Lorca". If I was scared before, I am now beyond terrified.

Air seems to have a hard time going into my lungs, and I can hear my breathing turning into gasps. The youngest muscle looks a little alarmed by the sound I am making. Maybe if I pass out they will take pity on me.

I close my eyes and center myself. This is the biggest robbery Tom and I had ever attempted, and clearly it is not turning out well. I hear the door open and my eyes snap open to see the one and only Hector Lorca- notorious drug lord and ruthless murderer. I hear he had even killed his brother once for making a deal he didn't agree with. Hopefully that was just a rumor.

His bloodshot eyes glare into mine. His gaze makes me squirm; behind his loathing for me I can see something else- a certain coldness, an emptiness. It occurs to me that I am coming face to face with a sociopath; he is incapable of feeling. He will take me apart piece by piece until I am screaming for mercy, and he will enjoy doing it.

My mouth goes dry and I start hyperventilating again. Damn, I had just gotten my breathing under control. He turns to the middle muscle.

"What do we have here?" he says with such venom in his voice that I have to avoid cringing.

"Jose found her trying to escape through the window. We're not sure how she got in, but we're pretty sure it was while we were changing shifts."

Lorca turns his gaze back to me. "Hmmm what to do with you?" He sneers, then speaks to Jose (Mr. Muscles) behind me. "Bring her down and put her in room 19. Cuff her to the chair; me and her are going to have a little fun."

When Jose pushes me forward again, I fight him, kicking my legs frantically backwards. If I'm going to die anyway I want to go down with a fight. He easily fights off my blows and sends one to my back that causes my vision to blur for a few seconds. I don't fight the next push forward, stumbling ahead.

We approach a wooden staircase that leads into darkness. He half carries me down it. I strain my eyes at the bottom, but I am unable to see anything more than gray blobs in the dark. Jose seems to know where he's going and he passes through one door after another.

By the time we reach my room I am completely disoriented. He pushes me down and I feel my back pressing into a wooden chair. He fixes the cuffs to it and then exits. I hear the door close behind him. I am left alone.

At first I think all is silent, but soon I am able to make out a low sound. It is a light moan. It sounds far away, but it carries into my room and fills my head. It is weak and filled with agony. I cringe at the sound of it, thinking that will be me soon.

I hear a door open far away and the moaning stops. My ears ring from the sudden lack of sound. Then a loud scream pierces the air. Once, twice, and then a gun goes off and all is quiet again. Horror fills me, and I can't prevent the trembling that overtakes me.

I am going to die. I will never see Tom again. I will never see our crappy little apartment, or our tiny pet fish, Hudson.

I have never wanted to live more than I do now. I want to live; I want to see another day. I want to go home to my apartment, go home to Tom, and scrape together whatever dinner we can afford. I want to fight over the bills, and then have him make it up to me with kisses. I want to stay up half the night with a cheap bottle of wine just talking with Tom and when we are too drunk to stay awake any longer I want to snuggle up with him on our lumpy mattress and fall asleep.

I can hear footsteps approaching my room, and tears start to flow down my face. I want to live. I am not ready to die. Despite all life has thrown at me, I am not ready to leave this world.

The door slams open and a light is switched on. I am blinded, and my eyes shut on their own accord. I squint against the piercing light.

Lorca lets out a low laugh that sends shivers down my spine. "Shhhh, don't cry now. This will all be over before you know it. All you have to do is answer a couple of questions, and I'll end it fast. The more you cooperate, the faster it will go. You see, I am not a monster; I am actually quite a practical man. If you don't resist unlike the person I just… dealed with… then this will be a rather quick and painless ordeal. If not… well let's just say I have methods of making people talk. You will spill all you're dirty little secrets to me; it is only a matter of time. So let's start with an easy one- what is your name?"

I stare at him with a level eye, the tears have stopped. I don't even react to his threats. What's the point of telling him anything if he's just going to kill me anyway? I will not betray Tom, no matter what Lorca's 'methods' are. He lets out another chuckle.

"So _that's_ how it's going to be, huh? It's such a shame- you have such a nice face." He runs a hand down my cheek and I turn away, disgust showing on my face. "Oohhh, feisty are we now? I've always liked my prey to fight a little- it makes it all the more fun."

I spit at him. It hits it mark, landing square on his face. I know it's a little childish, but it's also very satisfying considering I am prevented from punching him in the jaw like I really want to.

He pulls away from me slowly and wipes an arm over his face. I smirk at him and notice the change in him. Gone is the amused look in his eyes. His eyes are cold and hard. Maybe poking the bear with a stick was a bad idea.

He slaps me with such force that my head gets snapped to the side and I can barely keep myself from crying out. His ring cuts a deep gash into my cheek and I can feel blood dripping down the side of my face.

"That was a big mistake. You see-" He is cut off by the sounds of guns going off above us. He looks up, a livid look crossing his face. He swears loudly. "I'll be back," he mutters darkly and storms out of the room. I can hear shouting from above me.

I need to escape, while I have the chance. I look around the room; it is an empty metal box, completely featureless besides the wooden chair. I need a lock pick. My thoughts whir and then it comes to me.

I shake my head violently, my hair wildly falling out of its pony tail. I hear my clip fall to the ground. I scoot my chair over and try to pick it up with my feet, but it keeps falling. I am running out of time. The guns are closer now.

I push back hard and my chair tips backward. There is a loud crack as I hit the metal floor. The chair shatters under my weight. I shake out of the wooden fragments and wiggle over to the hair clip. I grab it, and in a few seconds I am free.

I rub my bruised wrists and stand up. Looks like I'm back where I started- unarmed, lost, and lacking backup. I walk out of the door into the hallway that is now thankfully lit up. I turn left, with a general idea of where I am going.

Unfortunately, I am fairly certain that is where the rapidly approaching gun shots are coming from. _Shit_, this robbery is definitely not going as planned. Not that the plan was very good in the first place, I'm not even sure if Lorca keeps his money here.

I approach the first door. The shooting is definitely getting closer. I consider retracing my steps, when suddenly the shooting stops. I freeze; my hand on the door. I listen carefully, but my ears are ringing from the guns. I take a step back and the door bursts open.

I don't have time to react as a group of 6 men encircle me. I have no idea who they are, but they certainly aren't Lorca's men. If I saw them on the street, I wouldn't give them a second glance- they look like completely ordinary people. Or at least ordinary compared to people you find walking around here in the Bronx.

"We've got her, she's uninjured," the bearded guy barks into his walkie-talkie. I can't hear what is said in return. The bearded guy answers with a, "Yes sir."

He turns to me, "Elizabeth Milhoan, we are here to get you to safety. Come with us."


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Thank you so much for the reviews! I will do my best to update this story (and my other one) as fast as I can. I hope you enjoy and sadly own nothing.

**CHAPTER 2: The Rescue**

What the hell? Had Tom somehow pulled together a well-trained extraction group in the past half hour? That seems unlikely- so who the hell had saved me? Tom is the only person in my life.

I follow the bearded man out, the other's surrounding me. It feels a little surreal and my thoughts are blurring together. Finally I give up and allow my mind to go blank. Numbness is always a good coping mechanism.

We take a different route out, and exit out of the back of the building. I don't see Lorca or any of the muscles as we walk out. Sirens are blaring in the distance. The cool outside air calms me and I breathe deeply. It's all over- I'm okay.

I expect the guards to leave me once I make it out, but they keep their formation and I continue following them. I'm not sure what they'd do if I tried to leave, and I don't attempt to because to be honest I am more curious to meet my rescuer than I am eager to meet back up with Tom. When I return to Tom I will have to tell him how wrong the op had gone. I will have to tell him that he was right, and that 3 weeks had just gone down the drain.

The beard stops abruptly a few blocks away and I almost walk into him. He turns to me, "Mr. Reddington would like to speak with you." I open my mouth to question him about this 'Mr. Reddington', but he just gestures to the building we are in front of. It is the nicest hotel in the Bronx, which isn't really saying a lot, but it is certainly more than Tom and I could afford.

The rest of the guards give me reassuring nods. "Room 292. He is expecting you," the beard continues, urging me on. I enter the hotel, apprehension filling me. What does this 'Mr. Reddington' want? Why had he saved me? Who even is he?

The lobby clerk looks up as I walk in. "You must be Miss Milhoan." I nod at him, honestly at a loss for words. This has certainly been an interesting day, and I have a feeling the surprises aren't over. I follow him into the elevator.

"Mr. White has been expecting your arrival. He will be pleased to know you arrived safe." I sense it is better not to question the name change. Whoever I am meeting with clearly is not with the local law enforcement, which leaves only one option- that he is a criminal, like me.

The clerk walks out of the elevator animatedly when the doors slide open, raving about how kind and generous 'Mr. White' always is. I pretend to listen, smiling politely when he stops me in front of room 292.

The clerk is beaming. "I will leave you two. Have a nice day Miss Milhoan."

"You too," I mumble distractedly. I pause at the door, unsure on whether to knock or not when the door swings open. There is a young man there, with dark skin and a serious face. The elusive Mr. White/ Reddington. I open my mouth and suddenly find myself at a loss for words.

He gestures for me to come inside and says in a deep voice, "Mr. Reddington will be meeting with you shortly." Ahh so he is not Reddington (I'm guessing that's his real name.) Good, I am all for first impressions and I would have totally blown that one if it had been Reddington.

"Please, sit down," the dark skinned man tells me, gesturing to a plush looking sofa. I am still a little shaky from the Lorca incident, so I gratefully take a seat.

The man (Reddington's body guard?) walks into the next room, leaving me alone. I can hear him exchanging words with someone, but I can't make out the fast and hushed speech. My mind drifts and when I look up again he is standing there.

My first thought is that he is gorgeous. Like drop- dead, how-can-someone-possibly-be-that-perfect gorgeous. My second thought is that he is probably twice my age, but that is quickly pushed aside. It's not like that had ever stopped me before (okay maybe I had never dated anyone _that _old, but I have always been into older guys.)

Reddington is wearing a crisp 3 piece suit that is well tailored to his body and a matching fedora. I quickly push away the thought that Tom could never look that good in a suit. That is some very bad thinking for a criminal you have just met.

Reddington seems to study me for a moment, his head slightly tilted. I meet his light green eyes and he smiles, seeming satisfied with me. His voice is rich and smooth, and it sends goose bumps down my back. "Elizabeth Milhoan." The way he says my name is just so… perfect.

He walks slowly towards me, his eyes fixed on mine. I have to admit, I am a little mesmerized by him. "It has been a long time." My gaze narrows at that. No memories stir in my brain at the sight of him. He immediately picks up on my reaction. "A _very _long time ago. I don't think you would remember it." He looks thoughtful.

He pauses for a few seconds, stopping a few feet in front of me. I look up to meet his gaze. "Why am I here? Who are you?" Reddington chuckles.

"Where are my manners? My name is Raymond Reddington. As for why you are here, that is a rather long story that is better told over an entire bottle of fine wine in front of a roaring fire with the whole night to tell it. That is not the purpose of our meeting today, I am afraid we have more pressing matters to attend to."

"We?" I ask him, not hiding the incredulous tone in my voice. He just seems amused by it.

"Yes, you and I. It has come to my attention that you are rather lacking in funds. I am rather lacking in someone of your expertise. So it seems that our interests are aligned for the moment. I have a proposition for you- there is something I need that needs to be taken rather discretely."

"Why me? I am certainly not the best thief around. There's nothing special about me."

His gaze is piercing. "Oh I think you're very special." His voice has dropped about an octave and sends more shivers down my spine. It is like a freaking chemical reaction. It can't be natural. I think he notices too because there's a slight smirk on his face. The bastard.

"What's the job?" I ask him, proud of my ability to maintain a steady and flat tone.

His eyes glance over my face again, lingering on the cut that I had forgotten about. Now that my thoughts are drawn to it, it starts to sting. "Let's take care of your injury first."

I am left alone once again, sitting on the couch and struggling to keep the bewildered look off my face. This day has only seemed to get stranger.

I sigh and stretch out, running a hand through my messy hair. I probably look like hell, but I don't really have time to worry about that. I'm more worried about the motives of this 'Mr. Reddington'. I don't trust him, no matter how charming (and handsome) he is.

Reddington walks back into the room, a small first aid kit in hand. He kneels down in front of me, his face only a few inches from mine. I can feel his hot breathing on my neck.

He smells like minty aftershave, whisky, and stale cigars. Somehow the scent is intoxicating.

He takes out a cotton ball and douses it with some rubbing alcohol. He dabs my wound. It stings, but I don't pull away.

His eyes are completely focused on my wound. I study his face, it is impossible to read. I am quite sure that he knows I am watching him, but I keep my gaze on him anyway.

The way he keeps his mask on is impressive, I have always been good at reading people, but with him I can't find a single emotion. He gently presses a bandage to my cheek and then straightens up.

He clears his throat. "The cut is not too deep; it should not leave a scar." I nod my thanks to him, not really trusting my voice at the moment.

He increases the space between us, and I find myself missing the proximity. Missing the heat it brought, and the smell of him…

Stop, I order myself. I have been dating Tom for 5 years now. These are not appropriate thoughts for a criminal whose motives I haven't determined yet. I take a deep breath and rip my eyes away from him. Ignore the eye candy.

"They call him The Courier." He has my attention, I meet his gaze. I had heard of The Courier, the perfect middle man for exchanges, but he is much more high profile than anything Tom and I had been involved in.

"I'm sure you've heard of him. He's the perfect middle man- if one party tries to double-cross the other, he kills them both. He is delivering a package worth $20 million dollars to Winston Farmer's Market tomorrow."

My jaw drops at the mention of $20 million. That is more money than Tom and I have even dreamed of having. "Do you know what's in the package?"

"It could be anything from government secrets to a very important person's head in a box at that price. The courier is a ghost; _I_ don't even know what he looks like. The meeting was brought to my attention by an associate of mine. This is not going to be an easy operation, The Courier will not hesitate to shoot everyone involved if he has the slightest suspicion that a third party is involved. It will have to be navigated carefully."

It sounds like a dangerous op, but $20 million dollars isn't exactly pocket change and at this point Tom and I are desperate for money. "I'll do it under one condition."

Reddington gives me a bemused look, "Which is?"

"I get to bring in my partner."

Reddington sighs, "I assume you are referring to Tom Keen."

My whole body stiffens. "How do you know about Tom?"

He doesn't answer, his face impossible to read but looking displeased.

"How do you know about Tom?" I repeat, struggling to keep my voice demanding.

"I know a great many things about your life," he states as if that is perfectly okay and normal.

"Who the hell are you?!" I ask him, my voice rising to hysteria.

"My name is Raymond Reddington," he repeats with a small smirk, and then adds, "But you can call me Red."

I stand up. "I'm leaving." He doesn't stop me as I storm by him. Just as I reach the door, I hear his voice call out.

"What about the job? I assure you there will be a heavy compensation for you if you agree to take it."

I pause with my hand on the door handle. The bastard knows I'm desperate for money.

I turn slowly. "I'll do the job, but only if Tom is in on it. After the job, we are done. I never want to see or hear from you again, is that clear?"

Red nods, a bright smile breaking over his face. "Lizzie…" He freezes when he sees my reaction to the nickname. "_Elizabeth_, you and Tom can meet me here in one hour. I will give you the job details then. My men will escort you home."

"That's not necessary," I say flatly. I don't need any babysitters; I can take care of myself.

"I'm afraid that it is necessary, Lizzie." This time he ignores my pointed glare at the name. "I will see you in an hour," he finishes dismissively.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: Thank you for the reviews! I own nothing and hope you enjoy!

**CHAPTER 3: The Meeting**

I storm out the door with a huff. The nerve of that man. I consider ditching the guards, but figure that he _is_ technically my boss so I should probably listen to him.

The lobbyist says a cheery goodbye as I exit the lobby. The cool air centers me again. This day has certainly been trying. The beard is the only guard left outside, and his weapon is concealed.

He nods to me and I silently follow behind him. I don't question how he knows the fastest route to Tom and I's apartment. This Red guy is one hell of a stalker.

When we arrive in front of my door the beard says politely, "Have a nice day Miss Milhoan." I nod at him, and when I look back he is gone. Wow Red's guards move fast.

Before I can move to open my door it swings open and Tom rushes out. His face is crinkled in concern, "Oh my God Liz, what happened? Where have you been? I went to the warehouse, and you weren't there and there were police men in front and they wouldn't let me inside. I thought something had happened to you…"

He trails off when he sees my bandaged cheek. He brushes a finger over it, and then pulls me close. "I was so worried," he whispers softly into my ear. I manage to keep the tears at bay. He pulls back and allows me to enter. I collapse on our lumpy arm chair and he closes the door behind me.

"Let me get you some water," Tom says and rushes into the kitchen. I want to scream after him 'I don't need any goddamn water, I need for you to hold me', but I refrain. He returns and kneels in front of me, handing me the cool glass. I try to keep the fear out of my eyes, but everything seems to be catching up with me now that I'm safe with Tom. I had almost died. He notices the slight trembling in my hands that I'm trying so hard to hide.

"Liz, it's okay, you're safe now," he says with such concern in his voice that I can no longer hold it in. I break down, and he pulls me to him, whispering that it's going to be okay. I cling to him like he could disappear at any moment. I had almost lost him.

Finally I get myself under control and pull back. He kisses my temple and then allows me to fall back into the chair. My voice shakes slightly as I tell him the entire story. He doesn't interrupt until I tell him about Reddington.

"Reddington? Who the hell is Reddington?" He sounds a little angrier than I would have expected, considering Red had saved my life. I explain to him that I had never met the man before, but he seemed to know everything about me. I don't mention that he seemed to know everything about Tom too.

Tom stiffens noticeably. "Why did he meet with you? What does he want?" I tell him about the robbery.

"No," he says automatically.

I give him an incredulous look. "No? Tom we are one more unpaid bill away from losing this apartment. We can barely afford to feed ourselves. We need this job."

Tom isn't even listening, "It's too dangerous. I can't let you do it."

Now I am mad. "You can't _let_ me do this!? I'm sorry if you haven't figured this out yet, _Tom_, but you don't own me. I am doing this job with or without you!"

I have never seen Tom so angry before. He is at a loss for words, but I can see the fire building in his eyes. "Liz," he says with a warning in his voice.

My eyes are blazing. I am so god damn tired of people trying to protect me! Why couldn't they see that I could take care of myself? I take a deep breathe. "I am going to this job Tom," I say with finality in my tone.

I see arguments spinning through his head, and I prepare myself for the yelling that is sure to follow when his shoulders slump in defeat. "Fine," he says, "but I don't like this."

I immediately soften. "I don't either, but we need to do this Tom. We are barely holding on."

He nods, his expression still dark. "I'm going to get ready," he says in a dull tone, and then he walks away. I watch him leave, and feel the tears threatening to spill down my cheeks again, but I hold them back. I need to regain some composure before I go back to see Red.

A half an hour later we are walking back to Red's hotel. Tom walks in stony silence, and I don't push him. There's nothing to say. I can't shake the feeling that we're being watched as we walk through the busy streets. My neck prickles, but I can't confirm my suspicions.

Tom still hasn't said anything by the time we walk into the lobby. The clerk greets me again. "Miss Milhoan, welcome back! Mr. White is waiting for you and your associate."

Tom gives me a look- associate? I shrug and follow the clerk into the elevator. I can hear Tom let out a huff behind me; sometimes he can be so childish. When the elevator reaches the second floor, the lobby clerk doesn't get out, trusting me to find my way. "Have a nice day Miss Milhoan."

"Thank you," I call back to him and he smiles. Tom scowls. I ignore him as he follows me to room 292. I decide that I'm going to show this Reddington how composed and professional I can be. He will not get to me; I will not show any emotions.

The door opens and I lose all sight of professionalism. It's Red, and he's shed his hat, vest, and tie. His sleeves are rolled up and I have to order myself not to stare. His green eyes dance with amusement, reflecting the light. "Hello, Lizzie," he says warmly, and the ushers me inside, completely ignoring Tom.

I need to get a grip. I step back next to Tom and give him a reassuring smile. He is staring at Red as if he would like nothing better than to wrap his hands around his neck. I grab his hand and squeeze it, breaking him out of his thoughts. He gives me a small smile, but it doesn't quite meet his eyes. He seems tense.

I claim my spot back on the sofa, with Tom next to me. Red sits in a plush chair, facing us. His eyes study mine for a second and then he turns to Tom. "You must be Tom Keen," he says in a voice devoid of emotion. I see his eye twitch slightly- a nervous tick?

"You must be Raymond Reddington," Tom responds, not bothering to hide the venom in his voice. What is his problem? I shoot him a quick glare which he ignores.

Red stares him down and you can feel the tension in the air. Tom averts his gaze and a small smile flicker's over Red's face. I feel like I'm watching some kind of bizarre, high-stakes staring contest. I try to think of something to say to break the tension but Red starts,

"Tomorrow The Courier will be at Winston's Farmer Market at noon. I believe he will meet with one of the parties and make the exchange. Your jobs are to determine who The Courier is, what he is trying to drop off, and who he is dropping it off to. Then you are to steal it without getting caught by The Courier. I will have a car waiting for your escape once the job is complete. It would not be wise to stick around for any longer than you need to after you have obtained the object."

Tom gives him an incredulous look. "How the hell are we supposed to do all that?" His voice is hard, but Red seems unaffected by it.

He gives him a narrowed look. "I don't know how you do your job. Just do whatever you normally do. And don't get shot."

Tom stands up abruptly and turns to me, "Liz we are leaving, this is a waste of time. This guy is clearly out of his mind." I completely agree with him that the op is a longshot, but I do not like being ordered around.

"We haven't scoped out the situation yet. All we need is a good plan," I tell him calmly. I can see Red's lips turn up in an almost undetectable smile at that. His gaze is still locked with Tom- round 2 of their intense staring contest.

"This is suicidal," Tom says angrily, turning to me. "Don't be stupid Liz- this will get both you and me killed. You almost got yourself killed today robbing Hector Lorca." The words cut into me, despite their truth. I am up and standing in front of Tom before I even make a conscious decision to do so.

"If you aren't going to do the job, then you can leave. But I am taking the job and I have every intention to stay and hear Red out. If you don't want to support me on this, then leave and don't bother coming home tonight."

Tom looks shocked at my outbreak. I am a little shocked at my outbreak. I guess I had kept in my anger for a little too long. He shakes his head, but sits down, his eyes filled with anger.

I let out a breath I wasn't aware I was holding and sit beside him. Red studies the two of us for a few seconds and then clears his throat.

"If _that_ is all over with, then I have some documents to show you Lizzie. You will not be going in blind." He ignores Tom again, which I would have found more amusing if I wasn't currently pissed off at the two of them. They are both acting like 5 year olds.

Red leaves us momentarily and I grab Tom's hand. His dark brown eyes meet mine. "We are going to be fine," I whisper to him and squeeze his hands. He gives me a small smile and nods. "I know." He doesn't sound certain. I release his hands and walk to where Red had just disappeared.

We enter a small kitchen area where Red is standing in front of a table completely covered with documents and surveillance photos. It's everything Red has on The Courier, which unfortunately isn't much.

We don't have a picture, a name, or seemingly anything solid about the true identity of The Courier. There are some rumors though- rumors that he can't feel any pain. Red seems intrigued by the whole idea, it seems like a long shot to me.

We make a general plan, nothing can be solid until we actually get there tomorrow, but it's good to have some idea of what we're going to do. Somehow I end up being the thief- the most dangerous job by far. Tom will be staying close for back up and Red and his team will be on surveillance. Hopefully they'll be able to determine who The Courier is. Then it'll be up to me to determine what is being delivered and get my hand on that item without anyone noticing. Not an easy task, and I can already feel the nerves setting in.

Tom is too busy glaring at Red to notice my discomfort, but Red has been focused on me the entire time, and of course he already has the ability to read me like a book. Just when I thought the man couldn't be any more infuriating. He stops in the middle of telling his newest plan and studies me for a moment.

"Everything is going to be fine, Lizzie. I won't let anything happen to you," he says with such sincerity that I feel like I might break down for the third time today. I really need to get my emotions under control.

I can only manage a half smile in return, convinced that if I open my mouth I'll either start bawling or confess how gorgeous I find him. Or both. That would certainly not be a good end to the night. He returns to his plans, Tom returns to his glaring, and I return to sitting there while the anxiety only builds inside of me.

By the time the last traces of light have left the sky, our plan is solidified and Tom and I are more than ready to leave. I stand up and then remember the trip here.

"I think we were followed here," I tell Red.

He studies me for a second and then answers, "You were. By my people." I nod, too exhausted to yell at him for putting a tail on me. He already knows where I live, and most likely countless other things so it's not like there's a privacy issue.

Tom seems to disagree. "You had her followed?" he asks with disgust in his voice, going in for round 3 of their stare down.

"Yes," Red answers calmly and then turns to me, "I will have one of my guards escort you home."

"I have Tom, I'll be fine." Red purses his lips at that, looking displeased, but he doesn't say anything. Tom has a smirk on his face as he meets the gaze of the older man. I have to resist rolling my eyes at the two of them. I feel like I am back in elementary school. I half expect Tom to stick his tongue out at Red as we walk out the door. He doesn't. Red doesn't say anything as the door swings closed.

As soon as we are in the elevator Tom starts complaining about Red. He calls him a creepy stalker and then a sociopathic maniac. I barely listen, making sure I nod at the proper times to keep Tom satisfied.

"…And the nerve of him; to save your life and then demand for you to do a job for him. For all we know he set up the entire Lorca incident to get you to work for him…" Tom continues to whine about Red all the way back to the apartment.

Once again, I feel my neck prickle as we walk through the darkened streets, and once again I don't tell Tom. I had figured that Red would send the guard anyway. He doesn't seem like the type of person to take orders from anyone, especially from someone like Tom.

Tom finally stops talking when we walk into our hotel. He lets out a deep sigh. "Wow, it's been a long day. Are you alright, babe? You were a little quiet while we were walking home." So _now _he notices. I decide not to push it; I can never stay mad at Tom for long. He always does something sweet that makes me forget my anger.

It's already 9o'clock and I haven't eaten all day. My stomach takes the opportunity to remind me of this, growling loudly. Tom laughs, "Let's get you some dinner."

"Thai?" I suggest.

"I'll be right on it." He walks into the kitchen and I can hear him ordering it. While he gets dinner ready I collapse back on the lumpy sofa. My eyes seem to shut on their own accord; it has been a very long day. I drift off to sleep.

I wake up to the smell of Thai food. The light blinds my eyes and I squint against it. I see Tom standing above me with an adorable smile on his face. "Hey, I didn't want to wake you, but you need to eat something," he whispers to me.

I groan and stretch out. "How long was I out?"

"Maybe 15 minutes." I bury my head into my pillow.

"Where's the food?" I mumble into the pillow. He hands me a carton of Thai and I smile my thanks. We sit there, him on the floor and me on the couch, just talking. He manages to take my mind off of tomorrow.

I struggle to stay awake. It is almost half past 10, and my eyes keep drooping. Tom's words are blurring into some foreign language. I try to focus on him, but it is becoming increasingly difficult. I can't stifle a yawn. He gives me a soft smile.

"Let's get you into bed." I nod, that sounds like a beautiful idea. He helps me up, having to half carry me to our bedroom. I fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who left reviews they always make me write faster (cough cough)! None of this is mine and I hope you enjoy!

**CHAPTER 4: The Courier**

I wander around the market aimlessly, occasionally picking things up, glancing at them, and then putting them down again. What do people even do at farmer's markets? I find Tom in the crowd and the sight of him immediately calms me.

My thoughts wander back to Red. My brain is still struggling to process everything that had occurred yesterday. I need to shut those thoughts down; it is too confusing to deal with at the moment. I've always been good at compartmentalizing.

My thoughts turn to the case. It is impossible to determine who The Courier is while stuck in the crowd. Hopefully Red's team is having more luck. That thought brings my brain right back to Red. Damn. My thoughts had turned to him too many times since our meeting yesterday. I can't believe I had just met him yesterday, and yet he already seems to be dominating my thoughts, my entire life really. Maybe Tom was right about him.

The chip in my ear crackling to life distracts my thoughts. "Lizzie, can you hear me?" Red's voice is low and soothing. I am so distracted by the tone of it, I almost forget to answer.

"Yes, all good." I keep my voice empty. It seems like I am much more successful today at keeping my voice level. Tom answers that his chip is working too (not that Red asked him).

I inspect some tomatoes. "Do you have visual on The Courier?"

"Negative," says a voice that I recognize as the bearded guard. I glance at my watch. The Courier should be making his drop in 10 minutes. We have 10 minutes to identify him, think of a plan, and then steal an unknown object without him noticing. My heart rate shoots back up. This op is not working out.

Every second that passes is agonizing as I mindlessly inspect the assorted fruits and vegetables. We are running out of time. My mind picks a convenient time to remind me of all the things could go wrong in this job. I could get shot, Tom could get shot, Red could get shot, the beard could get shot, we all could get shot.

My cynical thinking is once again interrupted by Red. "We have visual. The Courier is at the tomato stand, far to the left of you, Lizzie." I put down my carrots, resisting the urge to look up at The Courier. I slowly make my way back to the tomato stand. I grab the tomatoes from before.

I glance up at The Courier. He looks completely ordinary, except for his eyes. When he meets my gaze his eyes are cold and empty. I clear my throat. "How much for these?" I ask, holding up the tomatoes.

His face reminds blank. "10 dollars." I quickly dish out the money, having to dig through my pockets for longer than I would have liked.

"Thank you!" I say with a bright smile. He doesn't return it. Rude. I walk away from his stand, my mind already scheming. There had been a small bulge in his breast pocket- that must be the item. Now all I have to do is beat the client to it without tipping off The Courier.

I glance at my watch again, only 6 minutes left. It's now or never. "I'm going in," I say with unfelt confidence into my microphone. I make my way back towards The Courier and get into position. Time to use my acting skills. I let out a shriek and throw my tomatoes to the ground.

People turn in alarm and stare. My voice is very convincing- filled with horror. "There was a _worm_ in my tomato!" I turn animatedly towards The Courier. "Your tomatoes are infected! Everyone, if you bought tomatoes from this man, _do not eat them!_ I want my money back!" Some people look amused and others are looking through their bags with worried looks.

The Courier looks shocked. "Ma'am, please calm down," he says, exiting from behind his stand and walking towards me.

"I will not _calm down _I just picked up one of _your _tomatoes and it was completely infested! What if I had eaten those tomatoes?! I could have been poisoned- I could have _died_! I will _not_ pay 10 dollars for your rotten, bug filled tomatoes!"

The Courier reaches out an arm to calm me down and I push him back, my hand quickly slipping into his pocket. The object slides through my fingers and into my pocket in a matter of seconds.

"Don't touch me!" I screech. Now everyone looks completely alarmed by the woman having a complete meltdown over some tomatoes. Just as I am about to make an end to my little charade I hear shouting.

"Everyone freeze, FBI!" All of a sudden we are surrounded by agents in bullet proof vests. At first I think their guns are aimed at me, and I almost have a panic attack, but then I realize they are aiming them at The Courier.

The Courier looks unconcerned by the situation; in fact he is smiling at them. His smile sends shivers down my spine, and I soon understand the reason for it. A loud bang resonates through the market and the agent closest to The Courier drops. I recognize it as the sound of a sniper rifle.

The market erupts with screams. People start running, desperate to get out. The agents get pushed back and I see The Courier disappear into the crowd. I follow the herd of people out, staying low while I desperately search the crowd for Tom. Where the hell is he?

I hear a commotion and look over. My heart drops. One of the agents has Tom pinned down and is fastening cuffs onto him. How the hell did he know we were involved? The flow of people tries to push me forward, but I fight against them. I need to get to Tom, I need to save him.

I push people out of my way blindly, my eyes stuck on Tom. This can't possibly be real, this has to be a nightmare, I can't lose Tom, this cannot happen. I hear someone shouting my name, but I ignore it. I make it to the end of the flood people and just as I am about to break free I feel a hand closing around my arm.

I turn with a strangled scream and immediately try to fight off my attacker. My attacker grabs my fist before it can collide with his face and I come face to face with Raymond Reddington. I struggle against his grip; he has both of my hands trapped. "Let me go!" I shout, craning my head over my shoulder to see Tom being dragged away by a reddish-blonde haired agent. "I need to get Tom!"

"Lizzie. Lizzie, look at me!" I turn to him and his pale green eyes calm me. "You can't save Tom right now; we need to go before The Courier or the police find us."

I desperately look back at Tom, seeing him being roughly pushed into the back of a black SUV.

"Lizzie! We need to go _now_." Red's voice snaps me out of my trance. I rip free of Red's grip and start sprinting towards his surveillance van. I can hear Red follow in behind me, keeping up with my pace. The doors swing open as we approach and I jump in.

As soon as Red jumps in behind me, we start driving, speeding away from the crime scene. Red slams the doors closed behind us and the last thing I see is the black SUV speeding the opposite way. Tom is gone.

I collapse into the back of the van, and close my eyes. I suddenly can't handle this. Waves of panic over take me, and it takes all of my strength to prevent from breaking down. I had just lost the most important person in my life. The only person in my life; the person that keeps me sane. The person that I wake up for every morning and the last person I think about before I go to bed.

It feels like Sam's death all over again. When I had lost him, I had lost everything. Now I am at the very brinks of losing Tom too. I can't handle it.

I sense Red's eyes on me, but I don't open my eyes, I can't open my eyes. We drive in silence, and I stay in the same position, eyes squeezed shut, knees clutched tightly to my chest. I don't ask where we're going- I don't care. It's like the very life has been sucked out of me.

When the car slows to a stop, I still don't move. Maybe if I just stay this way forever this will all disappear. Maybe I'll wake up and Tom will be next to me and this will all be some kind of terrible, twisted dream. He'll hold me close and tell me it was all a nightmare. Tell me that I am going to be fine, tell me to just go back to sleep. Maybe I'll wake up and Raymond Reddington will just be a distant memory, just a fragment of my imagination. Maybe- I feel his hand on my knee pulling me back to reality.

"Lizzie?" he questions softly. "We're here." I slowly open my eyes to see his light green eyes boring into mine. They are filled with concern, and I can't handle it. I stand up abruptly, pushing his hand away. I jump out of the truck, leaving him kneeling there with a lost look on his face.

I take in my surroundings. He had brought me to a mansion, a giant estate with perfectly manicured lawns that flow out in all directions. The lawns end in woods in all directions, and I get the feeling that we are completely isolated. The house itself is stunning, with a vaulted roof and intricate decorations carved throughout.

"Where are we?" I ask Red, momentarily distracted from our current predicament, as I study the house with awe.

Red looks up with a nonchalant gaze. "Just a safe house of mine."

Just a safe house? I don't think I have ever set foot in a place half as nice as this one, much less owned something this expensive. I'm guessing we're somewhere just outside of New York City considering the short drive, so that only increases the value of the property.

His impressive house isn't able to keep my mind off of Tom for long, and as we walk through the extravagantly decorated entrance I have to battle the tears threatening to spill down my cheeks. I follow Red through the house, emotions choking me.

I push them down one after the other, until a dull numbness settles though me. It isn't a pleasant feeling, but it is certainly better than the pain I was feeling.

Red leads me through expensively furnished rooms. My mind isn't able to take in anything; the numb feeling has dulled my thoughts. Every thought of Tom sends a jolt of pain to my heart. I need him.

Red finally stops in a large living room. I collapse on the sofa and close my eyes again. Why haven't I woken up yet? Why can't this all go away? I can hear Red rummaging around for something and then the sound of glasses being filled. I hope that it is alcohol.

Red places a small glass of amber liquid in front of me, and I down the entire glass without hesitation. The whiskey burns on the way down, but it almost instantly solidifies the numbing sensation. Red gives me a look, but doesn't comment on the alcohol and instead pours me another glass.

"We are going to get Tom back." I take a large gulp of whiskey.

"How?" My voice trembles. I take another sip.

Red gives me a cocky smile, "I have many methods of extracting people from prison. Although there is a slight complication- did you see the agent who took Tom down? His name is Agent Donald Ressler. He has been tracking me to the very ends of the Earth for the past 5 years. It seems he has caught up to me again. If he is involved that means we're not working directly with the FBI- that means black sites, extra security, and multiple agencies countering our moves."

I feel a small flicker of hope. "I don't care what it takes, just get him out."

"And what do I get in return?" There is playfulness in Red's tone, but I can tell it's a serious question. He's a criminal, and criminals don't do anything for free.

I pull the object out of my pocket. "I did my job. You can consider this my payment."

I hadn't seen the object before, but now that I look at it I know what it is. It is a microchip. Red gives it a curious look and then scrunches up his brow, "How did you…?"

"I took it during my little outbreak. When I pushed him back, I slipped this out of his pocket."

Red looks impressed. He chuckles, "We're going to make a great team."

I down the rest of my whiskey and don't respond. Secretly I agree.

Red insists that we can't start planning Tom's break out until tomorrow. No matter how much I threaten him he stands his ground. I finally give in. Red lights a fire and I sit in front of it.

He leaves me to go 'speak with some associates'. My eyes wander through the living room. There are no personal affects. Most of the furniture looks brand new, as if it has never been used.

My mind drifts and I suddenly feel exhausted. I lay down on the couch with no intention of sleeping, but apparently my body has a different idea because I am asleep in under a minute.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who's left reviews and is sticking with this story! I will continue to update it as fast as I can. I own nothing and hope you enjoy!

**CHAPTER 5: The Escape **

I wake up to a mouthwatering smell. I stretch out and open my eyes to find myself in an unfamiliar room. It all comes flooding back and I let out a moan. The promise that Red is going to help me save Tom does little to ease the fear that has only been growing in me since I saw him being loaded into the back of the SUV.

He could be anywhere by now, being interrogated with any number of grotesque methods. Knowing Tom, he would never give them anything which would only escalate the interrogation methods._ Just hang in there._

I push off the blanket that definitely wasn't there when I fell asleep, and go to find Red. Following the distant voices, I make my way through the house. It only seems more massive on the inside and I start to wish I had paid more attention while Red was leading me through earlier today.

I finally find my way to the voices. The hall leads to a large kitchen area. The sight that meets me is unexpected. It is a strangely domestic scene, not something I could picture the Great and Mighty Raymond Reddington taking part in.

He is sitting at the table, only his vest and button down shirt on. He is talking animatedly to the rest of the table, every once in a while throwing his head back in a deep laugh that resonates through the room. A strange group of associates sitting with him- an older lady with a stern face, the dark skinned man I had met before, the bearded guard, and another older man I don't recognize.

He notices me standing there, taking in the scene.

"Lizzie, there you are! And right in time for dinner!" The others at the table turn to look at me. Their gazes make me uncomfortable. Red seems to study the situation for a second, looking at me, and then back at the rest of the table with an amused look on his face.

He starts to introduce me to people, his voice just as flamboyant as before. First he gestures to the older lady, "This is Mr. Kaplan, who has an uncanny ability to find and hide bodies. She also makes _delicious_ cookies." He gives her one of his trademark smiles.

He turns to the unfamiliar guard, "This is Newton Philips, a trusted partner of mine." Newton gives me a smile that doesn't quite meet his eyes. He seems nervous.

Next, he introduces the beard, "This is Henry Phelps, I'm sure you remember him." Henry nods at me.

"And last but certainly not least, this is Dembe." The darker man gives me a shielded smile. He is just as hard to read as Red is.

"We have some catching up to do, Lizzie."

"About Tom?" I ask, unable to keep the eagerness out of my tone.

"I'm afraid not. We have more pressing matters to attend to at the moment." What could possibly be more pressing than saving Tom? I wait for Red to continue.

"But first, it is dinner time and you haven't eaten all day." I open my mouth to protest that, but my stomach growls, reminding me that he is right. He smiles smugly at that and calls to a 'Mr. Smith' who comes running with a plate of steaming food instantly. Of course Red has a cook.

As much as I want to get on with our 'catching up', the food smells delicious and I haven't had a proper meal in weeks (unless you include Thai take out, which I'd had plenty of). The food disappears off my plate at an alarming rate, and as soon as I am done Mr. Smith comes running out with seconds. I don't refuse.

Throughout the entire dinner Red keeps talking. He tells me all sorts of stories, often sharing furtive glances with members at the table. Usually I am annoyed when people are too chatty, but Red's stories are far from dull. Besides, with his voice, I would probably happily listen to him talk about anything.

Finally when all of our plates are scraped clean, and even Red seems a little tired of the constant flow of stories, he starts my 'catching up'.

"While you were sleeping, I was looking at the microchip. It is a proof of life video for Seth Nelson, a NSA analyst involved with many classified programs. We intercepted a ransom drop off. It is very doubtful that The Courier will continue the exchange after that little fiasco today, I wouldn't be surprised if both parties are dead already."

I cut him off, "How is this a pressing matter?" How is this more important than saving Tom?

"I was getting to that. Unfortunately, a proof of life video is useless to me. Seth Nelson, however, could prove very valuable. You are going to help me save him."

"That wasn't part of the deal."

"Breaking your boyfriend out of prison wasn't part of the deal either." I glare at him, and his eyes meet mine with an infuriating calm. He knows he has won this- Tom is too valuable to me. I don't even have to say anything.

"Now, as I was saying, you are going to help us track down Seth Nelson. Oh, and did I mention he only has 21 hours of air left? We have to get to him before then, or I'm afraid he'll be useless and this whole operation, my dear, will be one big waste of time and resources."

My teeth are clenched together so tightly that it hurts. The only thing that is stopping me from causing permanent harm to man in front of me is the fact that I need him to get Tom. If that wasn't stopping me, Raymond Reddington would be in a world of pain.

I talk slowly, through gritted teeth, which only seems to amuse Red (and his associates for that matter). "What makes you think I can track him down? I am a thief, not a stalker." I refrain from adding "like you" at the end of that statement.

"I think you'll manage," Red answers, the silent threat in his eyes. If I don't do this Tom is as good as gone from my life forever. I push down the anger boiling inside me, if I have any hope of saving Tom I need to think clearly. And not stab anyone in the meantime.

Red goes to shows me the tape, and by the time we return Dembe is the only one left. He seems to be Red's most trusted associate. It seems like calling him a friend would be a stretch, because Red is not the type of person to have friends.

I honestly have no idea where to start. All we have is the video. After watching it for the 8th time, I start to feel desperate. I need to find this guy. I can't lose Tom. This causes another spark of anger to flare up at Red, for breaking our deal and forcing me yet again into a dangerous situation.

He is such a selfish bastard. I suddenly can't wait for this whole thing to be over so I can leave Reddington for good. The man has already twisted my whole life, and I had just met him a little over 24 hours ago.

I force myself to focus back on the video. A few more times through and I notice something. The container that Seth Nelson is being shoved in is no ordinary container- it looks like an old refrigerator. There can't be too many of those around here.

I look up refrigerator dumping grounds within a 100 mile radius. There are 3, not including dumps in general, in which there are several. I need to narrow the search. I'm so focused on finding Seth, that I don't notice him behind me. I am startled when he speaks.

"Have you found anything?" I try to play off the whole thing, but he smirks when he sees me jump. Bastard.

"Yeah," I say turning back to the computer. I replay him the clip, "I'm pretty sure he was buried in an old refrigerator. There are 3 places where he could be within a 100 mile radius."

"We don't have time to search all 3, we have 19 hours left." A 'nice job Lizzie' would have been greatly appreciated.

I consider a predicament for a second and then a thought hits me. "You have surveillance video from the farmers market today, right?"

"Yes, where are you going with this?"

"I'll explain later, just get them for me!" Red watches me for a second. I expect him to reprimand me for ordering him around but surprisingly he listens. Looks like he does have some redeeming qualities.

He watches me quietly while I search the footage, not interrupting me. Somehow I manage to concentrate with him in such proximity. It is not long until I find what I am looking for. Right after the agent gets shot and The Courier disappears I see a black van speeding out of the parking lot.

I pause the video and zoom into the van. There is a clear shot of The Courier speeding away. The moment when he realizes the chip is gone is captured on tape. He pats his pocket and shock registers on his face, and then anger. I have never seen someone look so angry.

I hit play again and pause when I can see the license plate- G78.9HH. Gotcha. I pull back from the computer and give Red a triumphant smile.

"That's my girl!" he exclaims, and then he hurries out of the room, presumably to track down G78.9HH. We don't have to wait long before one of Red's associates finds the truck parked off of Route 57, right out front of one of the dumping grounds.

Red drives; I think he is at least 30 miles above the speed limit the entire time. He expertly maneuvers between the traffic. It's a wild ride, not that I blame him- I doubt The Courier is there to have a nice chat with Seth. We need to get there before he kills him.

Red slows the car as we approach the site and turns of the headlights. He parks a couple hundred feet away- he's done this before. While I have been in stressful situations before, they have always been during a robbery. I have never been in a situation where I'm trying to save someone else's life. It's strangely exhilarating, and feels much more gratifying than a robbery does.

Red pulls out his gun and cocks it. "Stay behind me." I don't need to be asked twice. I pull out my gun, but it is more for show; I have never actually shot anyone before. Tom had taught me how to aim, so I could shoot someone in theory, but I would never shoot someone unless it was absolutely necessary.

Red seems much more confident with his gun. I follow behind him, staying as silent as possible. As we approach the clearing, I hear talking. It is too far away to make out what the voices are saying.

It is late, and the full moon casts ominous shadows over everything. I can't help but thinking that this is the perfect setting for a scary movie. In fact we have everything necessary for one- the ignorant, cowardly girl (me), her brave protector (Red), the sociopathic murderer (The Courier), and the sociopathic murderer's first victim (Seth definitely has the worst part).

As we get closer, I start to make out the voices and I wish I couldn't.

One voice is filled with terror; his words blur together and are interrupted by sobs. "Please- I don't know anything, please just let me go, I don't know." He lets out a yell. I can't hear what the other voice had said to him, because it is dropped to an almost imperceptible whisper.

We turn into the clearing and I see The Courier. He has a mask on, and is holding a knife. Seth is laying below him, still bound and in the fridge. He is begging for him to stop. The Courier just laughs, a cold laugh that sends chills down my back.

The Courier's back is to us as we slowly make our way along the edge of the clearing, getting gradually closer to him. Red's gun is constantly aimed at the back of The Courier's head, and I copy his formation.

We are getting closer now, 10 feet away from The Courier. Now 9 feet. Now 8 feet. All of a sudden Seth Nelson's eyes flicker over to our area. They widen in surprise, which he quickly tries to mask, but it's too late.

The Courier turns, and rushes at us. His knife is raised and he is approaching at a rapid speed. Panic fills me- we are going to die.

A loud band fills the air; The Courier stumbles back a few feet. The muzzle of my gun is smoking and I stare at in shock. Had I just shot someone?

Before I can consider that thought a cold laughter brings me back to reality. I watch The Courier. He looks down at his stomach were blood is spurting out and laughs. I can see blood dribbling out of his mouth behind his mask.

Horror fills me. Why is he not dead? What _is_ he? He charges at us again, and I am frozen in terror. He is 3 feet away, then 2, and then a loud bang cuts through the air and he falls.

Red walks over and empties two more bullets into The Courier just for good measure. The gun shots break me out of my daze. I rush over to Seth Nelson.

He is a mess, tears running down his face, his eyes wild, his pupils dilated. There are cuts all down his arms, but none seem serious.

"It's going to be okay," I tell him. I don't think he can even hear me; his eyes have a distant look. I retrieve The Courier's knife, refusing to look at his body while I do it.

The knife slices easily through Seth Nelson's bonds and soon he is free. I help him sit up. He is shaking uncontrollably, going into shock, so I wrap my coat around him.

Red, who had been making a phone call, probably to Mr. Kaplan, walks back to me.

He seems largely unaffected by the whole incident. I am trying to hide my shaking. I know he sees it, but thankfully he doesn't comment.

"Mr. Kaplan will be here soon. I've also called in an associate of mine to take care of him." He gestures to Seth, who is now slowly rocking back in forth.

"A doctor?" I ask.

"A psychologist," he answers with a slight quirk of his lips. It might be a little inappropriate considering the situation, but I smile back anyway. That always seems to be the best way to get through these types of situations- just smile through them.

We stand in comfortable silence, side by side, waiting for his associates to arrive. I let out a deep breath and let it all wash over me. The Courier is dead, Seth Nelson is saved, and Red is going to help me save Tom. I smile, it seems that the worst of it is over. It can only get better from here.


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note: Sorry for the wait, I'll try my best to be better at posting now. As always I love reviews sooo much, own nothing, and hope you enjoy!

**Chapter 6: The Apartment**

As it always is when I sleep in an unfamiliar place, I wake up disoriented and confused. It takes a couple of seconds for my brain to start working again and put the pieces together.

I'm in Red's guest room, which happens to be nicer (and larger) than my entire apartment. Sunlight is flowing in through the shades, casting a soft glow through the room.

I stretch and turn to look at the clock. Despite it being 5 o'clock in the morning, I feel better rested than I have in months. When we returned to the safe house with Seth and the phycologist it had been 1 in the morning and I had passed right out.

I am still wearing the same clothes that I wore yesterday and I am in desperate need of a shower. If Red is awake I can probably get him to take me to my apartment. Or I can go back to bed.

I finally get out of bed with a groan. The bed is so soft that I give it a sad glance as I walk out. If all goes well, this will be my last and only night sleeping in it and it is a _really_ nice bed. Much better than Tom and I's lumpy, rock-hard mattress.

I tiptoe through the halls; my bare feet chilled by the hard wood floors. The whole house is silent, it sounds like I am the only one awake. Halfway through my search for Red, I realize I have no idea where he sleeps. A few rooms later I realize I have no idea where I sleep anymore; this house is like a labyrinth.

All the rooms look exactly the same- well-furnished with an expensive taste, priceless artwork hanging on the walls, and absolutely no personal affects. Not even a picture frame. Safe houses aren't exactly meant to be home sweet home, but I figure that most of them must have at least some objects that mean something to the owner. It seems the only thing that Red really owns in this one is his well-tailored suits and matching fedoras.

When I pass by the same piece of artwork for the 3rd time this morning, I start to get frustrated. Why would anyone set a house up like this? Why would anyone ever need a house this big? I need a map. My mind drifts back to memories of corn mazes from when I was a little girl.

One day when I was really young, I couldn't have been older than 8, Sam had taken me to my first corn maze. He had given me the map, which was a mistake. He led us deep into the maze, getting us lost, and then had asked to see the map. My answer was 'what map?'

We had tried to get out on our own, walking through row upon row of corn stalks, but soon it started to get dark. Finally Sam had given up and taught me the secret about mazes.

"The key to getting out of any maze is to just stick to one side. If you just follow one side, doesn't matter which one, it will always lead you to the exit." We were out 5 minutes later. Every time fall came around, we had laughed about the memory.

I follow Sam's instructions, lightly tracing one hand against the left wall. I am so focused on my maze solving abilities that I almost miss him. Suddenly I look up and I'm not alone.

He is sitting there, in an armchair in only his button up shirt and suit pants. There is on open bottle of whiskey on the table in front of him, along with a half-filled glass. He lowers the book he is reading to look at me. He has glasses on, and it is the weirdest thing because it somehow makes him even sexier.

"Good morning Lizzie." I almost forget to respond.

"Good morning Red." I just stand there for a second, my hand awkwardly pressed against the wall. _Get yourself together, Liz._ My feet move and soon I am sitting across from him. Why was I looking for him again? Oh yeah.

"I need to go to my apartment." Red sets his book down on the table, the cover is blank.

"I'm afraid that is not going to be possible." He stands and grabs me a glass.

"Why not?"

"Agent Ressler would have undoubtedly discovered your address by now. I am quite certain there will be agents watching your house for the next few days. We wouldn't be able to get within 100 feet of your house without being arrested on the spot."

I hadn't thought of that. "But I need my clothes." Another thought struck me, "I need to get Hudson!"

"Hudson?"

"My pet fish. He'll starve if I don't feed him soon." Red gives me an incredulous look.

"You want us to risk being arrested for your pet fish?" I glare at Red. He sighs and downs the rest of his whiskey. He refills both of our glasses.

"Isn't it a little early for whiskey?"

"It's never too early for whiskey." He gives me a cheeky grin and downs half of his glass in one gulp. He somehow manages to completely distract me from my thoughts. We sit there sipping our drinks for a minute.

"I'll help you get in." It takes me a second to realize what he is talking about. My face breaks out into a smile and I start to thank him when he continues.

"On one condition…" Uh oh.

"Which is?"

His eyes meet mine. "Tell me about that scar on your wrist. I notice you stoke it when you're nervous."

My mouth goes dry and I instinctively pull my left hand back, hiding it behind me. Red's gaze is curious, but there is something else in it- a dark hunger. He waits patiently.

I take a deep breath, gathering up my courage. Red doesn't know it, but he's just hit a nerve. Or maybe he does know it; I study his reaction as I slowly unfurl my palm. He looks at it, and his eyes show satisfaction, but also something else- recognition?

I quickly close my palm, hiding the scar from his eyes once again. He tries to meet my gaze again, but I lower my eyes. I can tell he is about to say something about it so I quickly deflect the conversation.

"When are we going to my apartment?" Red checks his watch, choosing to not mention my obvious change of subject.

"Right now." He stands up, and redresses in his previously discarded suit. I try not to stare. He finishes with his fedora and starts walking out. I follow, positive that I don't look half as composed as Red does. How does he look so good when he got even less sleep then me?

I wonder if he even went to sleep last night. That leads to all sorts of inappropriate thoughts that I quickly push down. I really need to figure out how to control my thinking around him.

Dembe drives this time, appearing out of nowhere as we get into the car as if he was telepathically summoned by Red. That actually wouldn't surprise me too much; out of all his associates Red seems to have the biggest connection with Dembe. It seems like they share a history.

We drive in silence, Red sitting in the back with me. I watch the landscape pass by; it takes a few minutes of driving from Red's safe house to reach the next house (another mansion). Shortly after that house we reach the city. Dembe maneuvers through traffic with even more expertise then Red.

We stop a few blocks away from my house. Dembe parks. He'll wait here for us. I'm curious to see what Red's plan is as I hurry after him down the busy street. He doesn't say anything, so I just follow his lead.

I start to worry when we are a block from my house. I can already see the surveillance van parked outside- it is blatantly obvious. 'General Electric' is painted on the side. The FBI really need to be cleverer with their surveillance methods.

Red just keeps walking, completely ignoring the van. I'm positive they can see us at this point. He turns up the sidewalk that leads up to my apartment along with two of my neighbors.

I am trying my best not to freak out. Red better not get us arrested. Suddenly he grabs my arm. His hot breath hits my neck as he whispers in a soft and deep tone.

"You are drunk and madly in love with me." I don't have to be told twice. I grab his neck and pull his mouth down to mine. When our lips meet chills race down my whole body. I'm not exactly the romantic type, but I have to admit there was electricity.

We stumble forward, playing drunk and madly in love perfectly. I'm practically attacking him with my mouth. The kisses are hot and desperate, full of longing. Red is one hell of a kisser.

It's at that point that Tom pops back into my head. The guilt is instantaneous. Its one thing to think these things about Red, it is another thing entirely to act on them. Tom is probably being tortured right now and I am in the process of sticking my tongue down another man's throat. A man I had met two days ago.

I almost pull back, absolutely disgusted with myself, but I know I have to keep our cover. We have somehow made it over to my neighbor's door. Red presses something into my hand as he places kisses down my neck. It is cold and thin- a lock pick.

He presses me against the door, sucking lightly on my neck earning an involuntary moan out of me when he reaches a sensitive spot. I fumble with the lock pick, fighting my body's reaction to his touch.

Finally the lock clicks and we stumble inside. I immediately pull away from Red, turning away. I don't want him to see me. My attraction to him would be all too obvious if he saw me, and he already has too much of an upper hand for me to let him see me like this.

He lets out a heavy sigh behind me, which I refuse to decipher meaning out of. This needs to end now. One more deep breath and I am composed enough to face him again.

He would look completely normal except for one thing not even Raymond Reddington can hide- dilated pupils. This gives me some smug satisfaction, knowing I affect him as much as he affects me, but soon it just adds to the burning guilt. Tom had never been anything but loyal and I am betraying him with every thought of Red.

I need to distract myself from the guilt so I focus on the job at hand. "What do we do now?"

He studies me for a second, his eyes smug. Lucky for him he chooses not to mention our entrance strategy, because if he had I would have hurt him so badly.

He walks deeper into the apartment. "I believe your apartment shares a wall with this one, am I correct?" I still don't see where he's going with this.

"Yes, but I fail to see where-" I stare at him as he grabs a wooden chair from the small kitchen area. He lifts it easily and then swings it against the wall, hard. There is a huge bang. The chair splinters along with the wall.

When the dust clears there is a gaping hole in the wall. My living room is right through it. I gape at him, finally able to speak again.

"You just put a whole in my wall."

He smiles, he actually _smiles_ at that. "It's not like you need it anymore, you can't exactly stay here once we break Tom out of prison. As for the people that live in this apartment, this is a terrible inconvenience that I'm sure will be fully compensated for by our lovely FBI friends out there. Now get your belongings before they decide to come investigate the banging."

The whole is wide enough to easily fit through. I spring into action, shoving as much as I can into bags. I make sure to grab clothes for both me and Tom, the small savings we have hidden under a lamp, and the one picture album with photos from my childhood. I hesitate before stuffing the bunny in there too, it is the only link I have to my life before Sam and I feel a strange urge to hold on to it.

Last, I grab Hudson in his small glass bowl. The little guy has been with Tom and I for 3 years. He is probably ancient in goldfish years.

Red joins Hudson and I in my living room. I take one last look around. It might not be a nice apartment, but Tom and I had lived here for just as long as we'd had Hudson (Hudson was Tom's moving in gift to me) and there were some good memories here.

Red clears his throat. "I don't want to alarm you, but the FBI is getting into position to extract us from your neighbor's apartment right now, so we should probably leave soon."

I look at him, alarmed. He glances through the whole in the wall out the curtained windows of my neighbor's apartment. "Looks like we are just about surrounded." I can see shadows moving behind the curtains on all sides.

I stare at him in horror. Had his plan been to get us arrested all along? "What are we going to do?!" I ask him, unable to keep the panic out of my voice. Red is so calm that I want to slap him until he takes the situation seriously. We are all going to spend the rest of our lives in prison, if we don't do something.

"Now it is time for plan B," he answers calmly and walks into my kitchen, leaving me standing there holding multiple bags and a fish bowl with a confused and terrified look on my face. 'Plan B' does not sound good at all.

He comes back with two bottles of cheap wine and a box of matches. "First step of plan B," he lectures calmly, "is to erase our trail." He uncaps a bottle and pours it across the floor, trailing it until it reaches the whole to my neighbor's apartment. He uncaps the other bottle and sticks a dishtowel in it, placing it in the trail of fuel.

He studies his masterpiece for a moment and then turns to me, his confident green eyes immediately calming me. "The second step is to get the hell out of here before that bottle explodes." He pulls a match from the box and eyes Hudson.

"You should hold onto him tightly, this is going to be a wild ride." I grip the fishbowl tightly and walk to the door. Peering out the peephole I see that the FBI have only surrounded the neighboring apartment. Maybe we have a chance after all.

"They're preparing to breach," I call out to Red. He joins me at the door an speaks in a low whisper,

"When I say the word, open the door and run as fast as you can. Do not turn back or stop running for any reason. Do you understand?" I nod at him.

In the apartment next to us we hear a knock on the door. "FBI, open up!" Red tenses, lighting the match and holding it over the trail, waiting for the right moment.

The FBI shout their warning one more time. I hear the wood splinter as the door is knocked down and Red shouts, "Go!"

I sprint out of the door, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. Red's feet slap the pavement behind me.

There is a loud bang behind us as the bottle explodes. I keep on running, ignoring the shouts that follow. We only have to run two blocks before I see the familiar black car speeding towards us.

I have never been happier to see Dembe. The car screeches to a stop in front of us and I jump in the back. Red only has time to dive in, practically on top of me, before we speed away.

I regain composure, sitting back up and positioning Hudson on the floor so he won't spill. He seems completely unfazed by the entire incident.

As we speed away from the scene, I look back to see billows of thick gray smoke filling the sky. Sirens already blare in the distance; they must have had back up ready. I watch the remains of my home for 3 years go up in flames. Tom and I truly have nothing left except for each other (and Hudson).

Red seems to sympathize with my current predicament because he uncharacteristically stays silent. I consider yelling at him for burning down my home, but it's not like Tom and I could have returned there after the jailbreak anyway.

Instead I say, "Thank you for allowing me to get some belongings."

He smiles at me and then proceeds to launch into a story about an associate of his that had run into a burning building to save his precious tropical fish. I take the distraction gratefully, letting his words wash away the pain.


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Note: Sorry for the wait, it's been hard to work on two stories at once. Safe in Your Arms is almost over so soon I will be able to dedicate all my time to this story. Thanks for reading, please review, and I own nothing.

**Chapter 7: The Jailbreak**

We spend the rest of the day planning Tom's jail break. And by 'we' I mean Red and his associates, who completely disregard every idea I have. I guess I hadn't proven my worthiness during the robbery or Seth's rescue.

By afternoon they have made a pretty fool-proof plan to rescue Tom. Considering how Red had escaped dozens of agents with only 2 bottles of wine and some matches a few hour ago, I expect that the jail break will go smoothly. I don't see any possible kinks in the plan.

Red has somehow determined where they are keeping Tom. Apparently he has a source in the FBI, but he won't tell me who. Not that I blame him, they say trust is a two way bridge and I certainly don't trust him.

The jail break is set for tomorrow. It will start early in the morning. We should have Tom out by 7 am if everything goes well. From there, we'll make a quick stop at Red's safe house to pick up our few belongings, and then Red will drop us off at the bus station.

We will leave and never look back. I will never see Reddington again, and he will never see me. Tom and I will live out the rest of our days pulling of the petty heists that we are so good at, and everyone will live happily ever after. At least that's how it should go in theory.

I can't help the uneasiness growing in me. No matter how good of a plan it is, no plan is perfect and I know one mistake could send the whole thing spiraling to the ground. There is an equal possibility that we will get shot or arrested tomorrow as there is that we will all get out of this safe.

I spend a better part of the day watching Hudson swim around his tank as the anxiety gnaws away at me. Red doesn't even have a TV to give me something mindless to do to distract myself from tomorrow. At 5 I find myself wandering into the kitchen, my stomach reminding me that I had yet again forgotten to eat all day.

Chef Smith fixes me up with another delicious dinner. I'm not exactly sure what he makes me, but there is chicken and some type of creamy sauce in it and it is delicious. I thank him profusely and he leaves me to eat alone at the small island in the center of the kitchen.

I don't know where Red is- he had spent the day at various business meeting, flitting into the house in between to talk to some associates or gather materials. I had only seen him twice after our little adventure to my apartment, and I don't think he had even noticed me. That's why it surprises me when I look up and find him in front of me.

"Red," I say, starting a little when I notice him. Why hadn't I heard him enter? Usually I am pretty aware of my surroundings, my job requires me to develop my senses or wind up dead. I wonder how long he had been watching me.

"Hello Lizzie," he says quietly, his shaded green eyes meeting mine.

"How did your meetings go?" He sighs and sits down across from me, placing his fedora on the island.

"I met up with an old friend today."

"Oh?"

"He tried to kill me." The matter of fact way he says it makes me laugh. He quirks an eyebrow at me, giving me an incredulous look.

"Is something funny about someone trying to kill me?" I try to stop my laughter, but only succeed at laughing harder.

"No, it's just that," I laugh again. "It's just the way you said it." I start laughing again. He looks at me like I'm insane.

Finally I get my laughter under control. "So what did you do?"

"Do you really want me to answer that question?" Probably not. I meet his penetrating gaze. Definitely time to change the subject.

"Is everything with Tom set?"

He nods. "You should be ready to leave by 5:30 tomorrow." I glance at the clock, it is already 6. I sigh, not looking forward to going to bed. I should be able to fall asleep easily with the bed made in heaven, but I am almost guaranteed to have nightmares tonight. I'm surprised I didn't have nightmares last night with all the stress I am under.

"Not looking forward to going to bed?" His attention is fixed on me.

"Not looking forward to tomorrow."

He purses his lips, "How bad are they?"

"How bad are what?"

"The nightmares."

I meet his gaze; it's as if he can read my mind. My mind searches for an appropriate answer and finds nothing so I decide to use his method- answering a question with a question.

"How bad are yours?"

His lips turn into a small smile. He doesn't break eye contact, keeping his gaze steady yet free of emotion. He ignores my question. "I imagine most of them are from your childhood, the time before Sam took you in."

I stiffen up instantly. "What do you know about my childhood?" His gaze is calm despite my glare. He knows he has the upper hand.

"I think I have already mentioned that I know many things about you." Red apparently doesn't realize how angry I can get, or how much stress I am under at the moment, because if he did he wouldn't have pushed me so far.

I keep eye contact as all the ways I can possibly hurt this man flash through my head. It takes all of my self-control not to drive this fork into his neck. Only thoughts of Tom calm me enough to prevent myself from injuring Red.

"Fuck you," I say loudly and then I stalk out of the room. Red lets out a small chuckle behind me and then says softly, "You wish, sweetheart."

Those words almost make me turn back, but somehow I manage to get to my bedroom. I let out a string of swears, Red's name interrupting the flow every once in a while. Finally I am able to calm myself enough to go to bed.

Just as I had expected, I have a nightmare. There is fire all around me. The flames surround me, the intense heat scorching my skin. Smoke fills my lungs and I can't breathe. The fire gets closer and closer and there is nowhere to run to, nowhere to escape and the flames have almost reached me and- I wake up with a start. I gasp for breath letting the cold, clean air fill my lungs. No smoke, no fire.

I untangle myself from the sheets, my heart still racing. My hand unconsciously strokes my scar, the proof that the fire was real. I had almost died that night. The moonlight filters in through the window, lighting up the room. The clock reads 3:18. Still 2 hours until we go and get Tom.

My breathing and heart rate slow, but I can't shake the fear. That nightmare had been particularly vivid. Without Tom to comfort me, I can't calm down.

I try to fall back asleep, but every time I close my eyes I see flames. After 10 minutes of this, I give up on sleep. I shiver slightly as I shake free of the sheets and stand. I am wearing a short pair of running shorts and one of Tom's oversized t-shirts. I press it to my nose and inhale his scent, letting it comfort me.

I silently walk out of the room, my socks muffling the sound of my feet on the hard- wood floor. Red better be up, I suspect that he is. I use the maze trick again and sure enough I find him in the same room as yesterday morning.

This time he isn't reading. The bottle of whiskey is considerably lower than it was last morning. He is staring out the window with a distant expression on his face and for a second I think he hasn't noticed my presence, but then he speaks,

"Good morning Lizzie. Come sit down." He motions to the seat across from him that I took yesterday. There is already an empty glass sitting in front of it. I'm not sure if I should be amused or angry that he knew I was going to join him.

He refills his own glass and gives me a generous portion.

"Do you ever sleep?" The question is out of my mouth before I even consider it.

He laughs, his eyes sparkling when they meet mine. "Sleep is over rated."

"Yes and sitting in the dark and brooding while you destroy your liver is a much better use of your time." My tone is mocking, yet playful. He reads that I need to be distracted.

"I was not _brooding, _I was planning."

"Planning for what?" He proceeds to tell me about his 'contingency plans for his contingency plans' and recalls all the times they had saved his life. We keep up this easy conversation as dawn starts to break, Red taking every opportunity to get me to laugh.

Finally as the first rays of sunlight start to break over the horizon, Red's gaze hardens and he says, "It's time." My nerves immediately return. This plan needs to work.

I am ready and in the car by 5:30, and as promised we leave right away. The bullet proof vest is clunky and constricts my already labored breathing. I run my thumb over my scar, but not even that seems to calm me down. Beside me, Red takes notice. "Just relax, Lizzie. This will all be over soon."

His deep voice immediately calms me and my thumb stops moving. Instead I pull out my gun, counting the bullets for the third time this morning. It is full, I am ready for this. I steady my breathing and focus, the events of the past few days have gotten me used to stressful situations like this. I could do this, _we_ could do this.

We arrive outside the black site at 6:00, right on schedule. Behind the tall fence topped by barbed wire I can see what appears to be a giant abandoned warehouse. Red tells me that there is a whole FBI facility contained in there, but having no previous experience with black sites I'm still a little skeptical.

We drive past the front entrance. I see security cameras at every corner. So maybe Red is right. My entire body is tense in anticipation for the breach, but Red looks totally relaxed. He is gazing out the window with a faraway expression, as if he doesn't even realize where he is.

"Red," I call to him.

He turns to me, raising an eyebrow, "Yes, Lizzie?"

Sometimes he is so attractive it is really distracting. "Umm, are you ready?"

He gives a boastful smile, "I was born ready." The car stops at that opportune moment and he hops out, I follow right behind him. I eye the building warily, Tom is somewhere in there. According to Red, we are currently in a blind spot in the security, the only one in the facility. We have to move fast though because guards make rounds every fifteen minutes.

Red pulls out some wire cutters, "It's really as if they're just inviting us inside. This fence could be breached by well-trained monkeys."

I don't understand how he can remain so calm when we could be caught and possibly killed at any second. My heart is beating at an alarming rate and I feel like I'm about to go into cardiac arrest. I decide that talking and acting calm is his coping mechanism.

He cuts quickly and pulls out a large chunk of wire. He gestures me through.

Our team is small, just me, Red, and 3 of his people that I don't recognize. One is an Asian girl who doesn't look much older than me that Red calls, "Luli." She seems to be second in command. The other two look like typical guards, heavily muscled and covered in tattoos.

The security is light to keep up appearances. The FBI seem to be counting more on the animosity of the black site then it's defenses. We walk right up to the back door, our source inside has momentarily disabled the camera for us. I quickly pick the lock (in about 5 seconds, one of my personal records) and we slip inside.

I half expect to be shot down as soon as we enter, but there are no guards in sight. Red walks confidently through the warehouse, heading straight towards the elevator. I follow with less confidence; the FBI can't possibly be this bad at it's jobs.

The elevator doors slide open when we press the button. I can't believe that we are just going to walk in through the elevator. The plan is starting to sound less and less appealing. The doors close with a final clang and claustrophobia fills me. The FBI wouldn't have to try very hide to catch us in here.

We position ourselves as we descend, our guns pointing outside the elevator. Red gave me the odds before: we will be outnumbered 10:1, this needs to be a quick operation. We get Tom and we get out.

The elevator slows to a stop. I can hear my heart beating wildly in my ears. The doors slide open. Red steps out and empties two bullets into the air. "Everyone, if you value your life, get down on the floor and put your hands above your head."

The agents stare at him for a second, the room falling silent. "Do it now!" he shouts, waving his gun around wildly. He told me he would be playing the 'mentally unstable hostage holder' and he is doing it perfectly.

Luli rushes to one of the computers and starts typing away furiously. She is shutting down the security systems and finding Tom. I help the other two guards pat people down, confiscating their many concealed weapons and then zip-tying their wrists.

Red keeps waving his gun around at people, muttering to himself. I have to stifle the insane urge to laugh. One of the agents is staring at him, like she recognizes him and is wondering what the hell he is doing. Why would she know him? Is he _that_ important? I wonder again what he had done to get a task force dedicated to finding him.

I need to google his name once I get home. I remind myself that once I get home (where ever that will be) he will be gone from my life forever. I am surprised to find that that no longer fills me with the relief it used to. I don't have time to consider that for long because Luli jumps up from the computer, "I've got him."

Red and I follow her, leaving the two guards to watch the hostages. She leads us down through winding halls and stops in front of a room. Red doesn't waste time, shooting the door handle off when he finds the door is locked.

The door swings open and I let out a gasp. Tom is there, slumped over the table. He looks up with glassy eyes when he sees us barge in. His face is covered in deep purple bruises. His clothes are shredded, his shirt soaked in patches of his blood.

"Liz?" His eyes struggle to focus on me.

I rush over to his side, choking back a sob. "You're alright now Tom, you're going to be okay."

Red had somehow obtained a key to his cuffs and quickly unlocks him. I help him stand up slowly. When he gets to his feet his legs give out and I have to grab him to prevent him from falling. I grunt under the weight. Red grabs the other arm.

"We have to go now," he says glancing at his watch with a stressed look.

We practically drag Tom out, he is barely responsive. I can barely feel his weight anymore, the adrenaline has kicked in. When we arrive at the elevator the guards are more than ready to leave. I can hear sirens blaring in the distance.

The elevator ride seems to take twice as long as it did going down. Tom groans and slumps down even more. His eyes shut. "Stay with me Tom," I shout desperately. His eyes flutter open again, they are filled with pain.

The elevator doors slide open. I can see flashing lights approaching beyond the fence. Red swears and we move faster, Tom no longer able to help us. Luli opens the door and sprints through the opening in the fence. The two cars we took to get here are on the curb. Luli and the two guards jump into the first one and it speeds away before Red and I can even reach ours. We throw Tom in the back as a police car goes skidding around the corner.

Bullets ping off the bumper of the car. Red jumps into the front seat and I dive on top of Tom, slamming the door shut behind me. Dembe pulls of the curb, the tires screeching wildly. We fly forwards; I grab Tom who is no longer moving.

We are just about to reach the corner when a police car pulls into our path. We are only seconds away; Dembe doesn't have time to stop. He twists the wheel violently. I can feel the vehicle lift up as we go on two wheels.

The tires spin rapidly for traction and for a second I think we are going to make it but then with the sound of tearing metal the other police car hits us full speed. The car goes airborne. A scream escapes my mouth as we spiral downwards. We hit the ground and everything goes black.


End file.
